That’s right, this was the big one. I’m now 40!

Does it feel any different? Oddly enough, yes. However, that is not due to my age as much as to the life changing experience of breaking my ankle and being off my feet for six very long weeks.

Several years ago I decided that my goal for my 40th birthday was to feel comfortable in my own skin–to like myself for who I am. I’d started on this goal before that (years of therapy will do that to you) but I still had to work myself up to it.

The first big hurdle was accepting my hair. Do I still sometimes wish I had more manageable hair? Of course. But it is what it is, it’s not going to change, so I learned to deal with it, and be happy with what I have.

Once I got past that, everything else seemed pretty easy in comparison.

I already had a regular exercise routine, and I continued with that routine–right up to breaking my ankle–but by taking care of myself physically, I take care of not just my physical health, but my mental health as well.

I also came to the conclusion that enjoying life was far more important that worrying about stupid stuff, such as my weight. If I want to eat a ridiculously high fat calorie laden dessert because it looks really really really delicious, then it doesn’t make sense to deny myself the occasional treat.

Of course that circles around to accepting myself for who I am. I am never going to have the skinny body I had at 18, but that’s a good thing. Because I’m not a teenager anymore and I feel far more comfortable in my curves than I did when I felt as if I was all bony elbows and knees.

Interestingly, my injury made me realize that I am in really good shape. I’ve always felt that because I don’t run or partake in more assertive forms of exercise that I’ve been cheating myself somehow. After discovering how quickly I am bouncing back from my injury I realized that what I have been doing is just fine for my–I don’t have to be able to run marathons I simply need to keep myself in shape and healthy. I’ve done that, so no more guilt about running or anything like that.

The hardest part has been accepting my screw-ups–and believing that not everything is my fault. Everyone messes up. When I do, it’s my job to own up to it and move on. It does me no good to beat myself up over what is past. I can hope that I won’t make the same mistakes, but I also know that my mouth often works faster than my brain, and so stupidity WILL occur. It just isn’t the end of the world.

The last thing I learned is that it’s okay to do things for myself. It is important to me to care for others, but I cannot do that if I’m a wreck myself.

Mind you, this doesn’t mean I think I’m perfect and done growing. Because I’m not (on both counts). But I am who I am. I accept that. I other people don’t like me–that’s their problem, not mine.

So happy birthday to me! I can’t believe I’ve made it 40 years!